The Mission Logs of Invader Zim
by Abi Sain
Summary: Written in the perspectives of its heroes and villains, the Mission Logs of Invader Zim chronicles the Irken's journey from his base on Earth, to the vast expanse of the Irken Empire. There, he is forced to play savior to the universe, against the most frightful enemy in all of known creation.
1. Dib 1-1

_Disclaimer: All characters and settings from the 2001 animated series Invader Zim are the property of Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon Studios._

The streets were almost empty. Rays of sunlight were slanting through old brownstone houses and yellowed grass. It was midafternoon; most people were at work or at school. A few elderly sat leisurely by their homes, enjoying the warm spring evening. Dib was walking towards the dead end. Occasionally he would speed up his pace, then slow down, and then speed up again. When he had reached the end of the last block, he stopped and pulling a hand from his pocket, began rubbing his temples.

An elderly lady saw the young boy. Her flesh froze at the sight of him. His face was shallow, and a sickly pale, with jet black hair, a few strands standing at the base to form a scythe-like shape. Before she could speak the boy looked directly at the lady. It was only a brief glance, full of contempt and dislike. The lady said nothing and quietly slipped through the wooden door to her home.

Dib returned to the feeling in his head. It was not pain that he felt, but an unpleasant pressure. Dib's eyes began to water and he viciously rubbed then with his forearm, the fabric of his black coat felt like sandpaper.

A vicious emotion, not exactly anger but a sort of resentment, flared up inside him. He took a deep breath and it faded. He stopped thinking about the old lady, about today, about everything. In these days, he could never keep the horrid thoughts from his mind for very long. He kept walking, taking deep, controlled breaths, hoping that at some point whatever vile emotion stirring inside him would be buried again.

He never thought deeply about his decision, and so far it was possible he never cared. It was something that he had become aware of, something ugly and terrible. His ankle twisted and he tripped, his hands scuffed by the pavement. A small necklace fell from his pocket. He snatched it from the ground, and after careful inspection, pocketed the item. He looked up towards the opposite end of the street.

In a small lot between two houses, was a single overbearing building, its purple pointed roof distorted, its windows and door were horribly warped, and its walls painted a sickly green. No one but Dib knew about the bizarre truth behind the house and its proprietor. Dib's heart stirred. He remembered when he would infiltrate the building. He seemed to actually see himself sneaking past the security gnomes, carefully probing through the interior, looking for some means to the facilities the owner kept hidden inside. The outline of the rooms, with their wild colors and alien script stood out in his mind. He took a step forward. Even against the superior technology of his enemy, Dib would use his wit to defeat them. As long as they threatened humanity, Dib would not sit quietly. If he could learn enough about them, if he could at least gather enough evidence to prove their existence. An extraordinary medley of feelings, a sense of duty, which Dib had held with great conviction, bubbled inside him.

The moment passed. He reached his hand into his pocket and twirled his fingers along the tiny metal rings of the necklace. His thoughts wandered again. Almost unconsciously he reached out and pressed the doorbell.

The door opened, and a hollow feeling formed in Dibs belly. There was no wig, or contacts, Zim stood facing Dib with dark pink compounds, his pair of black antenna almost floating from the top of his green skinned head. It struck him at once that Zim had expected him. The Irken stepped aside to allow Dib entry, and motioned for him to be seated. He knew there was no danger, the Irken closed the door and stood, almost leisurely across from Dib. He did not speak. He went and sat on the large brown couch. He looked up a Zim, paying only partial attention. Zim realized, instantly, what was wrong with Dib.

On the couch the Dib-human appeared to be breaking up before his eyes, his body sagging in every direction. The boy didn't stir when Zim moved for a closer look. But when Zim glanced at Dibs shallow face, he saw that the skin around his eyes were dry and red.

Zim did not mock him, berate him, or say anything in the way of being offensive. He wondered, for a moment, if it was due to some pity he felt for the dirt-child. The thought was put aside as ludicrous. He saw that Dib was fiddling with something in his pocket, but he ignored it.

"You submit?" he said baldly.

"Yes," Dib said.

The casual, emotionless tone of his voice, made Zim's spooch sink. He should say more, he thought, something to reassure himself, but he remained silent. He walked away and Dib watched him disappear down a concealed elevator. He observed his surroundings, the large, flat television, the innumerous coils of wire on the ceiling, the large set of windows. He pulled the necklace from his pocket, gazing down at the skull shaped pendant. Dib sat quietly, two tears trickled down the sides of his cheeks.

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**_Words from the Author: _**_Story will be updated at least every two days. Late entries will be noted on the comments section. Please provide only sound, objective reviews. _


	2. Dib 1-2

_Disclaimer: All characters and settings from the 2001 animated series Invader Zim are the property of Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon Studios._

Zim paced about his lab, mumbling to no one. Taking a deep breath shouted out.

"Gir!"

Somewhere, a small bipedal robot landed head first on the floor. Standing forward, it looked up attentively towards its master, its eyes glowing crimson.

"Yes sir," it said sternly.

"Keep the Dib-human occupied, just until I figure out what to do with him," said Zim.

"Ooh," said Gir, its eyes now a light blue. "Are we having a play date?"

Zim looked at the robot quizzically, "What- no, just keep an eye on him until I get up there."

Eyes shifting to crimson, the robot made its way upward through the elevator. Zim seated himself, wondering why he felt this way, this frustration. No, he thought, not frustration, but a state of restlessness without reason. The Dib-human would no longer pursue him, his mission could continue unhindered. Yet Dib spoke as though it was unimportant, and worse, that Zim knew the reason why it was so.

Zim straightened himself up on his chair. This was ridiculous, he thought; he was just overanalyzing things. What mattered was that the Dib-human was defeated, his welfare now the subject of Zims personal whim. Did he always feel this way? He had been on the planet for four of its rotations. He tried to think back. No, he thought; it wasn't always this way, and he could remember when it started. The feeling came to him, a sense of impotence that came at random intervals, now stirring more powerful than ever. It was the humans, with all their smells and stupidity; he hated them all.

The sounds of scurrying machines, performing their daily task, echoed across the room. The screens of numerous computers glowed warmly, streams of data flowing briskly. On the counter, beside Zim, was a small cutter capable of breaking through the strongest metals as though they were paper.

The Irken chuckled. How easy it would be, for the primitive amoeba named humanity to mistake his devices as mystical. To fall on their knees before the miracles Zim could provide for them, begging to be spared, and submitting to whatever whim struck him. It seemed strange that his mission had been delayed for so long.

His thoughts drifted to a young Dib, when he was thirteen. Zim could see the speed and gait of his walk, the proud lift of his head, and brown eyes, with signs of fatigue, but piercing past everyone around him. They were the qualities of a person with courage, who drove himself relentlessly and without pity. So different from the rabble that surrounded him.

Yet Dib stood beside them, acting as protector whenever Zim acted. If Zim tried to irradiate the planet, Dib would stop him. If Zim tried to eliminate another human, Dib would save them. If Zim found new means to perpetuate his identity, Dib refuted him. Yet whenever Dib tried to expose him, the pig-smellies would renounce him, like roaches scurrying to their respective dark corners when exposed to light.

Why Dib continued to support them was even more unusual. Zim could never understand how someone with even a modest intellect could fail to see how little he meant to the people he was trying to save, and it was unsurprising when Dib eventually broke down. Now he appeared to Zim an empty shell, stripped of the qualities that elevated him in the Irkens eyes.

Black gloved hands clenched tightly. Zim was reminded of the parasite that fed off the refuse of larger animals, and he realized why he wasn't satisfied when the boy surrendered. It was not Zim's actions that broke Dib, it was the neglect of the worm-baby's species. His antennae perked. It all made sense now, after all it was never Dib alone that threatened him, but humanity itself. Dib was only an asset which they squandered, leaving him to face the sheer will of his mighty brain meats alone. But now the Dib-human was crippled, disillusioned, like any soldier who had lost faith in those he protected. The Irken stood up resolute, smiling wildly, baring zipper line teeth. He perused the counter and pulling out a small probe, made his way up to the main floor.

Dib was still in the living room, trying desperately, and badly, to get around Gir.

"For the love of," said Dib peevishly. "Gir for the fifth time, please get out of the way."

"Say the magic word," said the robot childishly.

"Gir, I swear to God," said the Dib-human, raising his voice.

"I doubt that will help you," said Zim. Dib turned around. He had a wounded, pleading look, much similar to the beetle-like humans Zim saw daily. He suddenly felt an unusual impulse, a sudden desire to bring down the obscenity before him. To step and grind the sickening thing that stood across from him until every wet bit of its person was crushed out of existence.

Zim never knew that he could feel so much hatred for another living thing. It took a moment for him to collect himself.

"I actually insisted that Gir keep you company," he said. "I actually wanted to speak with you."

The boy glared ungraciously, "About what?"

"About your surrender. After all it wont be the same without you, although it will make it much simpler."

Dib rolled his eyes, agitated, "I'm leaving."

Dib turned around, ready to leave the house, even if it meant kicking the defenseless little robot aside. He felt a something cold on the back of his neck, his eyes widened in terror. As burst of electricity surged though Dib's body, his face contorted and limbs stiffened. With a loud thud, he fell on the floor.

"Computer," said Zim. "Bring up a containment capsule." He inspected the boy, making certain that there was no damage that he may have to worry over. He noticed a clear liquid trailing along Dib's thigh.

"And a set of clothes."


End file.
